


Yes, My Dear

by MrSpears



Series: Hunger of Legion Series [4]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Butt Plugs, Drama, Embarrassment, Kidnapping, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian and Will have been trailing a ravenous new demon for three weeks, but now the newcomer has decided to make the first move. He invites Ciel to his house for dinner, his motives unclear. Does he want Ciel's soul, or just something more physical?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. While His Lordship Engages Above...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



A delicate silver spoon dipped into the parfait, rising up to meet a childish pink mouth. Ciel slid his tongue over the bottom of the spoon to make sure he consumed every rich morsel of the delightful dessert. He was trying his best to pretend he was even remotely interested in the letter that Sebastian had presented him with almost fifteen minutes ago. He hadn’t really read past the opening lines.

“Sebastian,” Ciel said, dabbing the corner of his mouth primly with a linen napkin. “Who is Lord Heath Clifton?”

“A magnate in the business of whale oil, my lord.” Sebastian said, tipping the china teapot just so over his master’s teacup. The soulful scent of the dark rose brew floated into the air, rising with the steam. “Rather ruthless, I hear. And very lucrative.”

“Hm.” Ciel set the letter back down and ate another spoonful of parfait, trying to appear as though he were consuming it with the particular brand of well-bred apathy that dictated every other aspect of his life. “What would a whale oil tycoon want with me?”

“The letter may disclose,” Sebastian suggested.

Ciel cut him a glare. “Do not be snide.”

Sebastian smiled and set the teapot down, carefully lifting sugar cubes from their fragile nest and dropping them into the tea. “Forgive me, my lord, I only meant to suggest that if his lordship is reaching out to you, his reasons must extend beyond simple civility. It would be distasteful to turn down his invitation, especially when his name has been mentioned in London’s most affluent circles as of late.”

Ciel scoffed underneath his breath.

“I have nothing to wear.” The young earl said.

“With your permission, my lord, I have taken the liberty of selecting for you a choice outfit for this evening. You have not yet had a chance to wear your new velvet coat, as the tailor just delivered it this morning.”

“Fine.” Ciel set the spoon down beside his empty dish, and Sebastian whisked it neatly away. “I will wear my new shoes, as well. We may as well make an impression.”

Sebastian touched his lapel and bowed.

“Very good, my lord.”

 

0~0~0

The elegant little townhome was alive with light.

Nothing delighted Heath more than his lamps. He loved their soft, flickering flames and the voluptuous curves of the pewter that supported them. If it were up to him, he would keep only one or two burning at a time… for he was a lover of soft, sultry lighting. But then she, the one who summoned him, always insisted the rooms be kept bright. Ever since the death of her husband she had developed an almost child-like fear of the dark, as if his ghost were lingering in the shadows, hands reaching out to wrap around her throat once more, to shut off her screams and bring her to teeter on the edge of consciousness.

That was ridiculous of course, since Heath had killed him.

He slipped his hand above the small flame, feeling it tease his skin with heat. He bit his cheek in delight and lowered his hand even closer, until the tongue of flame was licking at his fingertips, scorching them playfully. He grinned with the sensation, chill bumps rising on his skin. This was what had drawn him to her in the first place, her lamps.

He did not want to be her butler, however. He refused. It was so typical. Now husband, graceful lord, and ruthless businessman? That was a role he had been all too eager to play.

“Heath,” she drifted into the room, her mink brown hair pinned up with a few stray curls falling free, framing her face while also masking the mark of their contract that rested just behind her ear. The seal that matched hers was resting on his hips, just below his waistband. He hadn’t wanted it on his hands, gloves restricted his movement.

“Yes, my dear?” he asked, pulling away from his lamp and turning to face her. That was the form of address they had agreed upon. A simple endearment, enough to serve as a reminder of his subservience.

She turned, presenting her back to him. “Help me with my buttons.”

He close the distance between them quickly, his heels clicking against the polished floor. He touched dexterous fingers to the small of her back where the buttons began and with uncanny speed, they made their way up her spine, ending at the high, so very Victorian collar around her neck. He slid the last button through its loop and, satisfied with his work, brushed his lips over the seal behind her ear.

“Is that sufficient?” he whispered.

She pulled away, scowling at him, adjusting the cuffs of their sleeves. “None of that.” She said. “We have guests arriving in a few minutes.”

“I only ever need a few minutes.” He said, moving close again to brush his fingers over her shoulder.

She swatted at him, annoyed, and moved towards a mirror to adjust the pins in her hair. “Do not force me to waste an order. It will happen if and when I like, and never more or less. I did not summon an incubus.”

Heath sighed. Her words wounded him, as always. He quickly recovered from it, distracted again by the flame of his lamp. He walked back over to it, swiping his hand back and forth through the flame.

“Yes, my dear.”

“Is what you told me about the Phantomhive butler true?” she asked.

He at least had the decency to look insulted.

“Of course it is true.” He said. “I’ve caught him prowling around after my feedings twice now. And…” he cut himself off before he mentioned the reaper. Lady Clifton was not an ignorant woman, but she had not been exposed to divine beings such as reapers. And if, after a long-winded explanation as to how shinigami worked, she found out one was hot on his trail… she might force him to stop his feeding altogether, and there were a thousand other voices inside of him, a thousand mouths to be fed – that would not stand for such a thing.

He had never been so controlled before. He didn’t like it. Her and her attractive goddamn lamps.

“They have arrived,” he said, his hands twitching as heard the carriage roll to a stop outside. “Shall I let them in?”

“I suppose you must. We did invite them.” She turned away from the mirror at last, taking a deep breath and preparing to assume the meek, graceful demeanor expected of a lord’s wife.

“I hope the earl is proficient at billiards.” Heath said as he withdrew reluctantly from his lamp and started towards the door. “I am in the mood for a game.”

“You never can be serious, can you?” she sounded thoroughly exasperated.

He gave her a wide grin and a merry laugh that bordered on malicious.

“Never.”

0~0~0

“A townhouse.” Ciel said disapprovingly. “And not their estate.”

“Lord Clifton prefers to stay in town, close to his business.” Sebastian said quietly. “Lady Clifton is notoriously attached.”

Ciel scoffed, and raised his cane to knock.

Before the head of his cane even touched wood, the door flung open, and in its frame stood a man. He was tall, with a good inch on Sebastian, his clothing impeccably tailored and fitted to his slender form, his coat a rich jewel-toned red. His silhouette was wreathed in the light of the lamps behind him; which granted his short, wavy golden locks an empyrean glow. His eyes, deeply hooded and slanted, were dusky, charcoal grey.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, but he otherwise did not move. This was not the demon he had been trailing for nearly three weeks. Heath Clifton had changed his appearance – but why?

Ciel, for his part, stood dumbfounded. He gripped his cane, still holding it mid-air, and stared open-mouthed at the lord in his path. Sebastian looked down at him with some irritation. _‘My lord,’_ he thought, wishing Ciel could read his thoughts just this once. _‘I know you are young, but please try not to embarrass yourself.’_

He reached out with one white-gloved hand and, with gentle fingertips, prompted Ciel’s mouth to close – a polite reminder that they were civilized beings and the evening’s honored guests.

Ciel glanced at him furiously, his cheeks reddening. This was not a promising start to the evening.

A delighted smile spread across Lord Clifton’s face, and the long, steely look he gave Sebastian told the demon butler all he needed to know.

This was about to turn into a contest of wills.

“Forgive me, my lord.” Heath said, turning his full attention onto Ciel. “So delighted have I been at the prospect of receiving you that I jumped at the chance to answer the door myself. We do have staff, I assure you.” He laughed lightly. “Though a good number of them are in the kitchen and the dining area, vigilantly preparing our meal as we speak. May I take your coats?” he tilted his head as Ciel swept past him. The young Earl Phantomhive found himself scanning the townhouse idly with his one uncovered eye. It was so bright.

“Oil from the sperm whale,” Heath said cheerfully, placing his hands on the young earl’s shoulders to slide away his coat. “It burns brighter than any other, and don’t let my competitors sway you otherwise.”

Ciel’s shoulders jerked when he felt the lord’s hands on him, another blush creeping up his neck. Lord Clifton’s smile was nothing less than polite as he moved on to take Sebastian’s coat as well.

Sebastian tensed when the other demon approached him. Heath lifted an eyebrow, extending his hand. Sebastian held his gaze for a long moment, and then smiled, slipping off his coat and placing it in Heath’s hand, bowing deeply.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Heath said, gesturing to the open room to their right. “My dear? Our guests have arrived!”

“So I can see,” she rose as they stepped into the room, picking up her voluminous skirts and sweeping into a deep curtsy. “My lord Phantomhive… welcome to our home.” Her smile was demure. She spoke softly, but clearly. “I am Lady Violet Clifton.”

“My lady,” Ciel bowed stiffly to her wondering why, in God’s name, there were so many lamps in one room.

“Our guests have not been very talkative thus far.” She said, returning to her seat and folding her hands serenely in her lap. “My love, have you scared them to death already?”

“I have tried my best,” Heath walked up to her, taking his place standing behind her chair and setting a possessive hand on her shoulder. She did not move, but rather kept her eyes fixated on the earl. Her eyes were a soft, unassuming blue.

There was an awkward moment of tense silence, and Ciel’s impatience climbed.

“So…” the earl began, right as Heath started with, “My lord…”

Another uncomfortable pause. Ciel waved his hand, indicating his host should continue.

Heath flashed him a smile. “My lord, do you fancy a game of billiards before supper?”

Lady Clifton closed her eyes.

Ciel was caught off guard. He had assumed the lord would want to jump straight into business, if he indeed had any business….

“Yes,” Ciel said, casting a haughty look at Sebastian. “I am quite the consummate player.”

The young lord was flashing like a peacock in front of his older man, or this demon in a lord’s skin. But why…?

Sebastian suspected, but did not want to believe, that Ciel had been stricken with fancy.

What exactly was it, about blondes?

“Excellent,” Lord Clifton bent to give his wife a kiss on the cheek, which she endured quite gravely. He pulled away for her at last, and her eyes fell on Sebastian. A gaze which was beginning to grate on him, as it seemed measured, calm … calculating, and far too much like his own.

“Be certain to bring him down in time for supper, Heath.” There was a thin layer of command in her gentle voice. “We cannot have our guest starve, after all.”

He paused in the doorway, giving her a small nod.

“Yes, my dear.”

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed.

 _‘So,’_ he thought. _‘That is how it is done, here.’_

Heath led Ciel up a narrow staircase to the second floor of the townhouse, headed for the billiard room. Ciel could not keep his eyes off the lord in front of him. The trim waist, the narrow hips, the way he minced his steps… he moved with effortless grace, his manner much like Sebastian but far more – fluid. Sebastian was stiff, formal; this man flowed.

“…if you would prefer.”

Ciel realized he hadn’t caught the entirety of what Heath had been saying. He glanced up, annoyed at himself, and did his best not to let it show on his face.

An expressionless mask. That was what he needed to maintain. He was unsure of this man’s motives. Any slip of his guard would prove dangerous. At least Sebastian was only a single level below.

Really, he just needed to relax. Or at least pretend to.

Ciel closed his eyes for a minute, letting out a shallow breath, he then looked up at the lord.

“Forgive me, I did not quite catch what you asked.”

“Do you prefer a full sized cue?” Heath lifted an eyebrow, lifting the cue stick in question a little higher. “I have some that are shorter…”

“I can use a full size.” Ciel snipped. Really, he preferred his custom cues, but he was not at home. And he would be damned if he allowed this man to patronize him like a child.

Heath only smiled at him. “As you wish, my lord.” He handed the cue over to Ciel, who took hold of it and stepped off to the side. It felt a little heavy and awkward in his small hands, but that was no matter. He was confident in his ability to handle it.

Heath pulled his own cue down with ease, walking over to the billiard table where the game had already been set up. Lord Clifton leaned casually against the side of the table. “Would you do the honor of taking the first shot, my lord?” Heath asked.

Ciel nodded, walking around the table and pulling himself up onto the ledge. Sitting on the side always made it easier for him to aim. He leaned over, trying to adjust the awkward cue against his frail fingers. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eye, he shot the cue forward.

It glanced off the surface of the ball. The damn thing budged barely an inch.

Ciel flushed, glad that this room was not as well lit as the downstairs level. The lighting, in fact, was rather low, creating an intimate atmosphere … especially at such close quarters.

“Bad luck,” he muttered. “I’ll do it again.”

“Of course, my lord.” Heath said, unfailingly polite.

Ciel leaned forward even further, drawing up his legs a little more, suddenly very aware that his back was exposed to this man. If the purpose of this meeting was to drive a dagger into the young Earl Phantomhive’s back, Ciel could not have possibly made it any easier for him. Of course, the back of his calves – which Ciel was very well aware of being his finest asset – were exposed as well, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Clifton held the same opinion.

Ciel was becoming increasingly aware of his awkward posture, his child’s hands trying to handle the heavy cue. Cold fingers brushed over the back of his hand, and Ciel’s head snapped up, sucking in a deep breath as though he has just been startled out of his wits.

“May I?” Heath lifted the cue from Ciel’s unresisting fingers and replaced it with a smaller one, a lighter one. It was a child’s size.

Ciel gripped the cue stick furiously, ready to demand that the bigger one be given back to him. But he knew such a maneuver would only make him look more like a child.

This was endlessly frustrating.

Lord Clifton stepped back, and Ciel took another deep breath. Setting the cue between his fingers, he executed a swift motion, feeling the slick wood glide over his skin and listening for the satisfying ‘pop’ as the blunt end hit the ball this time, sending it careening into the others.

“Well done, my lord.” Heath said, walking around to the other side of the table. The blatant condescension in his manner was galling. Ciel seethed.

Hard rain began to drum against the windows, a howling breeze clawing at the shutters. Lord Clifton sent two balls into one pocket without so much as a casual glance.

Ciel was beginning to hate him. At least… that was the only explanation he had for the knot in his stomach.

“Your butler,” Heath said conversationally. “He is a stunning specimen.”

A jealous pang. Ciel set his teeth, sending a ball spinning into a pocket.

“I do not wish to talk about Sebastian.” The young earl said. “We will discuss something else.”

“Is there trouble in paradise?” Lord Clifton leaned on his cue, observing the table.

Ciel scoffed. “Do not be vulgar.”

“I do not know what you think I am implying,” Heath said, quite innocently. He lifted his cue again and knocked another ball across the table, but it only bounced off the side. “Ah,” he flashed Ciel a smile. “I miscalculated.”

“Yes,” Ciel said. “You did.”

His next ball smacked into another, and they both stopped dead in the middle of the table.

“And so did you.” Heath replied helpfully. “Although it would appear that I still have the upper hand.”

“It only appears that way at first.” Ciel said. “Look again.”

Heath set his cue against his fingers, refusing to tear his eyes away from the young lord. Without even glancing at his target, he hit one of the balls, sending it and both of Ciel’s into opposite pockets.

“I’m afraid,” Heath said, “that you don’t play as well as you believe you do.” He softened his ominous words with another smile. “All in good time, my lord. It is merely practice!”

Ciel didn’t know why, but it felt as though his heart had inexplicably ceased to beat. He turned his attention back to the table, but in the back of his mind, he knew he had already lost this game.

Outside of the window, standing close to the street, the rain was pelting its latest unfortunate victim. William was glad for his wool coat as he looked up at the dim light eking from the billiard room window. He saw the shadows of Ciel Phantomhive and Heath Clifton, operating completely independently of the shadows of Sebastian Michaelis and Violet Clifton in the common room window below.

Two demons in one house. The filthy creatures always seemed to find each other.

“Are you sure about this, boss?” Ronald asked, shivering by his side, one foot resting on the humming motor of his death scythe. William had been loath to drag the junior employee along, but he it was either Ronald or Grell … and there was not a chance in hell he was taking this on alone. Not again.

“Just follow my orders, Knox.” William said in a frigid voice that left no room for argument. He pulled his death scythe close, unable to look away from the billiard room window. “Stay close. And be prepared for the inevitable overtime.”


	2. ...His Butler Confers Below

Lady Clifton’s blue eyes were unrelenting. Sebastian was going to claw them out. 

She had waited until Heath and Ciel disappeared upstairs before gesturing to the chair across from her.

“You may sit,” she informed him coolly.

He smiled, and bowed again.

“You are very gracious, my lady. If it is all the same, I prefer to stand, in the event that my master should call.” 

“How very attentive you are.” She said. “How entirely… at his service.” 

The implication was heavy. Sebastian was not about to give in to her goading. 

“Your husband was an admirable man.” Sebastian said, to change the topic. Lady Clifton nodded her agreement, tugging on the hem of her cuff thoughtfully. 

“Yes,” she said. “A very engaging personality, it is part of what makes his business so successful.” 

He noted how she did not bother to correct him. This affirmed in his mind that the true Lord Clifton was absolutely deceased. 

“He is, of course, also a bit eccentric.” She continued. “But I believe that all rich men are, to some degree. Your little lord, for instance, is quite the idiosyncratic individual.” 

“There are moments.” Sebastian allowed himself to step closer to her. He could see a spark of interest in her eyes, but he was not sure exactly what she was interested in. Sex? Very unlikely. She was receptive to him, but she did not read lust. It seemed closer to fascination – as if he were something to be pulled apart and studied. Not very much ever fazed him, but the mental image of this woman dissecting him like a corpse in a medicine lecture made his skin crawl. 

He hoped Ciel ordered her death before the night was out. It was only a shame her soul was claimed. In another time, he might have relished the taste of something so bitter. 

He stopped just inches away from her, and dropped down to one knee beside her chair. That caught her off guard. She looked down at him, one fine eyebrow raised. 

He placed his hand on top of hers. She did not pull away, but her entire body tensed. He held her gaze, searching for a crack in her guard, the smallest break that would allow him to slip inside and know what she was thinking. Even now she was proving to be unwavering. He had an abundance of unanswered questions, and they were all linked back to why she had summoned Heath in the first place. It had not been simply to kill her husband, Sebastian was sure. She did not seem so narrow-minded as that. 

“We both know,” he said, taking a chance, “what we are.” 

“What you are,” she responded, her words quiet.

“What Heath is.” He tilted his chin up. 

She smiled. It was an entirely alarming expression.

She had small teeth as well. They looked like they were better suited for the mouth of a child. 

“My husband.” She said, turning her hand around underneath his and gripping his wrist.

He did not move. “For how long?” 

“Until the day I die.” She tugged on his hand, leaning in and speaking close to his ear, “I am just as clever as you are, Sebastian Michaelis.” 

He highly doubted that. 

“You are better off in a contract with me than your brat, no matter how precocious he might be.” She said. “He will not last much longer, and to be mine is far more rewarding, I can assure you.” 

Sebastian lowered his head and grinned. “You do not know very much about how we operate.” He said. He threw his head back and looked at her, his expression entirely solemn, his eyes glowing bright, blood red. “I am bound to my master until our contract is complete. And then I intend to make a meal out of him. Besides, I would never dream of depriving Heath what little he is…” he glanced down at her lap. “…Gleaning from this deal.” 

She smacked him, her ring scraping across his cheek. He caught her hand in his and stood swiftly, pulling her along with him, dragging her into his arms and pressing their bodies close together. One hand ended up pressed against the small of her back, the end ended up around her throat, satin gloved fingers applying the smallest amount of pressure. He could feel her throbbing pulse. 

“No matter how hard you try,” he traced his lips over her ear. “You will never be anything more than human. And at the end of their lives, all humans just become the next course for someone like me. Like Heath.” 

“Heath,” she choked, her voice barely audible. 

Sebastian squeezed tighter. Her hands flew up to grab his wrists.

“Heath, Heath!” her voice climbed, her panic settling in. Sebastian felt the other demon’s presence behind him before Heath ever had a chance to speak. 

“That is enough, Sebastian.” The older demon said. His voice had changed, somehow, but Sebastian could not quite pinpoint the shift. “How about an accord? You release mine, I will release yours.” 

Sebastian stiffened, his fingers sliding away from Lady Clifton’s throat. His hand slid down her neck and stopped at the curve of her breasts before he stepped back, and she also stumbled back a pace, her eyes livid, her coloration a fading purple. 

“Sebastian!” Sebastian heard his master’s voice behind him, spitting out the words along with the taste of Heath’s fingers. 

“Heath!” Lady Clifton growled, her hands going up to delicately touch her throat. 

“This is an order!” both voices rang together, clashing mid-air like steel blades. Ciel ripped off his eyepatch, the seal of their contract burning. Lady Clifton swept up her hair, the seal behind her ear glowing bright red like a brand. 

“Kill the boy,” Lady Clifton hissed, her eyes narrowing. “Subdue his demon butler!”

“Kill them!” Ciel snarled, tiny fists clenched. “I want them both dead!” 

Sebastian turned on his heel to face his master. Ciel was ruffled, but otherwise unharmed. Sebastian bowed, touching his lapel, his black hair sweeping over his cheeks.

“Yes, my lord.” He said. 

Heath slid his jacket away from his shoulders, tossing it lazily to the side. His smile was idyllic as he brushed back his thick blonde hair, his shirt sliding up to expose the mark on his hips.

“Yes, my dear.”

One, two steps, and then he sprang. Sebastian barely had time to move out of the way before the demon lord landed on his feet right where the butler had been standing. His eyes gleamed, charcoal grey irises splitting apart to allow streaks of startling bright red. 

“Sebastian. Se-bas-tian.” Heath rolled his hot cherry tongue over his lips, drawing out every syllable of the younger demon’s name. “Don’t worry. I like it better when there is a struggle.” 

Sebastian did not deign to reply. He sank into a fighting stance, more interested in tracking the other’s movement. Heath had undeniable agility and speed, but he was arrogant. That was going to work against him. 

Glass shattered. Sebastian did not turn until he heard the boastful roar of a motor, and a familiar voice. 

“Knox, your enthusiasm is commendable. Please refrain from such dramatics.” 

Heath growled, irritated, twitching visibly – violently - now. 

“Now really,” the demon lord was annoyed. “Did they have to break the window?” 

“Good evening, senior.” Sebastian kept his eyes on the demon. He knew Will wasn’t here for him, not this time. Heath was the bigger threat. 

Will did not reply, but Sebastian hadn’t really been expecting one. Ronald revved his scythe again, possibly too excited at the prospect of killing something. 

“Do you like my hair, William?” Heath laughed, his voice echoing oddly, sounding like more than one person was trying to speak at once. “I know how you feel about demons and our inky heads.” 

William narrowed his eyes, starting to regret every thought he ever had that this demon might consider amusing. He clenched his scythe, the shears shooting forward, making a straight path for Heath’s neck. 

Sebastian moved out of the way, sweeping out his arm, he grabbed Ciel around the middle and lifted him into the air. The reapers were not here for him, they would take care of Heath, and the master’s safety was the demon butler’s priority. 

“Heath!” Lady Clifton hissed through her teeth. Heath glanced over to where Ciel and Sebastian were covering ground, and his brow furrowed, annoyed. He set his teeth and knocked Will’s scythe out of the way with his forearm, wishing for his hatchet. He couldn’t remember where he had left it. 

“My dear,” Heath said. “Avert your eyes.” 

Lady Clifton did so, turning her head and raising her hand to shield her gaze. 

And then he began to change. 

Heath’s head flew back as far as it could go, his Adam’s apple jutting. His mouth fell open, wider than any human could have made it, the corners of his mouth splitting, giving him a red smile. He screamed and a dozen or more spindly black arms, composed entirely of dark smoke, shot out from his mouth, talon-like fingers groping at the air, a multitude of voices rising to join his. 

“S-Sebastian!” Ciel gripped his butler’s jacket tightly, Sebastian’s nose filled with the stench of his young master’s fear. “What… what is that?” 

Heath’s back arched, and more hands burst from his flesh, ripping through his jacket, blood and shredded meat flying everywhere- covering the wall in gore. Heath’s body began to rise until it hovered about an inch from the ground, and the arms whipped around like so many furious tentacles, writhing and gasping at nothing in particular. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Ronald hefted his scythe, aiming the chopping blade at the demon in front of him. “Boss-!” 

Will’s response was dead in his throat. He stared at the demon in front of him having never, never seen anything like it. 

He raised his scythe reflexively when he saw one of the arms coming for him. It wrapped around the pole, while another grabbed the blades, trying to twist it out of his hands. Will snapped out of his daze just as Ronald slammed his scythe into the black hands, and they dissipated. 

“Holy mother of fuck!” Ronald stared at William, wide-eyed. “Are you seeing these things, or…?” 

“I see them, Ronald.” William adjusted his glasses. The next pair of hands that came for him he sliced off at the wrists. A dozen voices screamed, but the arms just disappeared as soon they were rendered useless. Will knew that here was no real way to hurt the demon unless he could plunge his scythe into the source, but the hands were making it impossible to get to Heathe, himself. 

Another black hand went for Sebastian, too fast for the demon butler to move out of the way. Its wicked, grasping fingers pulled Ciel from his arms, another one – even faster – grabbing the butler by the neck and throwing him into the wall. 

His head cracked when he made contact, and plaster broke apart. 

Ronald jumped into the air, one foot set on his scythe, he dove for Heath’s head with a whoop. A black hand came for him, grabbing him by the face, nails digging into the side of his head. Ronald screamed and dropped his scythe, thrashing, as he felt the pressure increase – the demon trying to crush his skull. A long, driving finger dug a sharp nail into his eye, and it burst in a spout of gore. 

Will jumped as well, aiming only to save Ronald, at this point. He wrapped his arms around his junior, driving his clippers down towards Heath’s head. Another hand knocked his scythe out of the way – they seemed to be multiplying two for every one that was defeated. Will growled and jerked his scythe upward, ripping the hand out by its root, flinging it away and then slicing his shears through the wrist of the one that held Ronald. He and the younger shinigami fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Ronald was sobbing as blood gushed down his face, and Will held him close, covering him with his body to protect Ronald from the onslaught of reaching demonic fingers. 

“What demon are you?” Will demanded, only to have a harsh cackle thrown back in his face. 

“We are Legion,” a din of clangorous voices filled the room, speaking in perfect unison. Heath’s mouth, of course, could not move. “We are One.” 

Legion. A legendary demon. William was more confused than ever. 

Ciel kicked and clawed at the hands that were holding him, but it was to no avail. Another long hand wrapped around Lady Clifton’s waist. She stiffed but to her credit, she did not scream – nor could she bring herself to pull her hand down and gaze upon the true form of the demon she had dragged into her world. 

She had no idea what she done. Not a single idea. William knew, then, that they were all going to die. 

A loud, all-encompassing roar – like a hurricane wind in the middle of the sea – and the voices all rose to scream at once. William covered his ears and lowered his head, watching as Ronald winced visibly, white jelly and bright red blood pouring down his face from his ruined eye. William kept himself in that position until the roaring had subsided, and when he looked up, Heath had vanished – and taken Ciel and Lady Clifton with him. 

All that remained in the townhouse were two reapers, one of whom was badly injured, and a very agitated demon whose master had just been abducted. 

For a long time, no one spoke. The only sound was Ronald’s scythe, still growling happily, as it laid heavily on its side, its blades chopping through empty air.


	3. A Demon's Red Smile

His wrists were bound above his head, but not with hemp or chains.

…Silk, perhaps? 

Ciel tugged on them experimentally. He could not open his eyes, the blindfold was bound too tightly. His mouth had been stuffed with bitter, soft fabric, and another twist of silk wrapped around his lips to hold everything in place. He could not speak, he could not give the order for Sebastian to come and save him. The realization made his heart sink into his stomach and he felt panic settle in. In the past, it had been easy for him in these situations. His captors often didn’t know better, and they were careless, and…

They were human. 

Cold air brushed over his skin, giving rise to chill bumps. Ciel was naked, and he was kneeling on a bed of satin. At the very least, his knees would not come out of this bruised. 

“Good morning, young earl.” He recognized the voice immediately. 

Ciel growled into his gag, thrashing with his bonds. He felt lithe fingers slide underneath his blindfold, pulling it up over his head. He opened his eyes to see Lady Clifton sitting on the bed in front of him. If Ciel strained, he could see Heath Clifton by the fireplace, seated at a desk with his legs crossed, one elegant heel resting on his thigh. The corners of his mouth were still split, making his malevolent smile even wider. 

“You look so distressed,” Heath rested a hand against his chest, as if it were the most adorable thing he had ever seen. “Do not despair, I won’t give you the satisfaction of being taken just yet. Oh, I know it must be disappointing. After you so shamelessly flaunted your assets to me earlier.” 

Ciel’s face was on fire, angry and humiliating. He thrashed again.

“I would you would not struggle. They only get tighter when you do.” Heath sighed. “And if you lose your circulation, well… there go your hands, I’m afraid.” 

Ciel went still immediately, hanging there helplessly, his head drooping. 

“Lady Clifton ordered me to kill you.” Heath continued. “But I cannot very well do so until I have Sebastian in my claws, so to speak. You see, she wishes him for her own amusement. It occurred to me I might torture you until you commanded Sebastian to submit to her will, but… something told me that you would endure torture too proudly, and then I conjured a far more efficient way to break your spirit.” 

Lady Clifton held something aloft, and it took a moment for Ciel to focus on what was so close to his face. It was a bizarre tool, carved out of wood and polished smooth, with a shape vaguely reminiscent of a child’s spinning top, one end tapered and the other bulbous – leading into a short handle that was capped with a flat top, embedded with a purple jewel. 

“Amethyst. I thought it so appropriate.” Heath said. 

Lady Clifton reached over to the side of the bed, out of Ciel’s range of vision. When she pulled back, she held up the tool again, and it was drenched in oil.

“I do not think you are prepare to accommodate me.” Heath said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “Lady Clifton had a very apposite solution.”

“Just take a deep breath.” She said. “And relax.” She reached underneath Ciel, her fingers slick, and slid them between his ass cheeks. Ciel groaned into the gag, wanting to pull on his bond again, but wanting to keep his hands intact.

She smiled at him.

“There we go.” She used two fingers to splay his cheeks apart, and then reached underneath with her other hand. 

Ciel felt the tip of the tool against his tight entrance, and he clenched.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered, massaging him with her fingertips. “Try not to think about it.” She kissed him through the gag, and then spread his cheeks even wider, sliding the plug into his ass, persisting all the way up to the cap.

Ciel screamed into the gag, not expecting the violent sensation, the feeling of being stretched so wide he might rip in half. He panted into the fabric, wishing he could swallow properly, his face red from the exertion and heat. 

“There we are.” Heath said, rising from his desk. “A proper little lord, properly plugged up for the time being. And when you are stretched to my liking, we will start discussion of your demon.” 

Ciel glowered at him. All he could see was a red haze, his mind racing with thoughts of this man’s death. He would order Sebastian to kill him slowly. So, very slowly. 

The blindfold was pulled back down over his eyes, and everything was dark once again.

**Author's Note:**

> All that violence and underage stuff the warnings promise? Yyeaaaah, that's coming up. 
> 
> I'm in love with my OC, you guys. Mrawr.


End file.
